Feline Hangover
by OmoMeowth
Summary: After a party gets a touch out of hand Mike and Lucy find themselves in quite the embarrassing situation. It's now up to one of them to take responsibility but who will do it first?


Upon the eve of a new morning, a rather late one at that, Lucy opened her pale blue eyes, only to be greeted by the harsh sun pouring in through the blinds on her windows. At first, she found it hard for her eyes to focus, even if the blinds were keeping out most of the light. Between her headache, and the loud snores of the unwitting Korat lying asleep without a pillow next to her, she found herself with quite the hangover. It was at that moment everything began to sink in. There she was, lying in bed with Mike. A wave of panic ran over her, and her mind began to race. She wasn't having any more trouble with her eyes, but her headache hadn't gone anywhere. Fortunately, the wave of panic quickly washed away as her memories returned. Although she remembered little of the prior night, she now knew that she and Mike hadn't done anything.

The situation seemed but a blur to her, although he was nowhere to be found. All she remembered was that in her families absence someone took it upon themselves to throw a party at her house, not giving her much choice in the matter. Attempting to salvage the little bit of time away from family that she had, she tried to enjoy it. She figured having fun for once wasn't a crime. Of course somewhere along the lines everyone ended up drunk, whether through peer pressure or spiked punch; everyone was quite 'under the influence'. Such a situation seemed so much like her life.

Of course she had no time to be depressed about the irony that was her life, because she quickly became aware of another feeling. She could feel a peculiar bit of dampness around her waist and legs. She wanted to believe it was sweat; if only life could be so merciful. With that wave of panic she had felt prior returning, almost like the tide does upon the wake of a Tsunami, she slowly lifted the blanket. To her horror, she saw a large stain around her waist, confirming that she had indeed wet the bed.

Typically, an event such as this would have sucked quite hard and left her worried, but with Mike stretched out next to her, and her bed sheets quite sodden, the English language failed to properly define a word with enough emotion to describe her feelings at that time. The only word that came close to manifesting her feelings was the word she happened to whisper to herself at that time, 'Fuck'.

She quickly crawled out of the bed, practicing a certain amount of finesse to keep from waking up the sleeping lion that lay upon her bed, and she headed for the bathroom. As she made the trip across her room to her safe house of sorts, she prayed Mike would sleep a little longer, at least until she could clean up the uncomfortable feeling of wetness on her fur, and hopefully come up with a plan, or a miracle. She entered the bathroom and quietly, yet swiftly, closed the door. She grabbed the end of her toilet paper and began to wrap it around her fist, until breaking it off. She used this to clean the damp fur that covered her legs and butt. Sadly, this did little and she knew that it was only temporary. She was going to need a shower, and with time a serious obstacle, she needed to act fast.

After performing her makeshift method of cleaning up, she threw the wet toilet paper into the garbage, and left her bathroom. Luckily, Mike was still sound asleep, and it didn't seem like anything would disturb him. Of course this didn't make Lucy any more comfortable with the situation because she was at a loss with what to do. She stood there with her hands brought up to her chest in anxious anticipation, as she watched Mike sleep. He seemed like the calm before the storm. She wanted to think Mike was predictable, and would be instinctively caring and supportive of the situation if, God forbid, he woke up, but she knew she couldn't count on it. Plus, even if he was nice about it she wasn't completely comfortable with him seeing this anyway. This was a secret she wanted dead and buried.

With time running thin, and her patience beginning to dissolve, Lucy had hatched a plan that was truly sinister, and a bit of a stretch, but it had hopes of success all the same. As bad as it made Lucy feel to do this to the unsuspecting cat asleep on her bed that had helped her so many times before, it was a do or die world and she surely wasn't going to die here (of embarrassment). She slowly, but surely, made her way over to where Mike lay. She whispered to him, asking him if he was awake, granted a bit of an absurd action given the heaviness in which he was snoring, but all the same she felt as though she needed to be sure. So with much deliberation, and little confidence, she put both hands on the side of the sleeping feline and began to roll him over.

It wasn't until she attempted to do this that she realized how difficult flipping him over was to do, let alone subtly. She was almost positive that if she if she went all the way, that he would certainly wake up, but it was all or nothing, so she mustered up her strength and her courage and she finished rolling him over. It wasn't a perfect position with him halfway on her side and half way in the middle, not to mention him lying face down on the mattress, but he hadn't woken up and that's all that matters. She knew that she had to do something about his head before this back fired, so she gently kept it suspended as she did her best to grab her thinnest pillow. She slid the pillow underneath his head, praying he didn't wake up now, at probably the worst moment possible, and she gently placed it sideways on the pillow.

She wasn't sure if it was the change in positions, him getting restless, or if it was just coincidence, but Mike's snoring had slowed down quite a bit, and she didn't want to stick around to find out. So she quickly made her way for her bathroom, closed the door, and began taking a much needed hot shower.

Upon hearing the running water, Mike opened his green eyes. He blinked a few times doing his best to get adjusted to the light pouring in through the windows, and the pounding headache lodged right behind his eyes. He began to push himself up; out of the uncomfortable position he was it, taking in his surroundings. He realized he was in Lucy's room. He remembered the party from last night, although he wasn't quite sure what series of events had led up to them sharing a bed and not actually doing anything sexual, he was just glad he didn't do something he would have regretted.

It was at that moment he noticed something, a peculiar little feeling around his waist and one of his legs. He quickly began to panic at the thought that he must have had a wet dream in Lucy's bed! He prayed that she hadn't noticed, and it wasn't the cause of her shower, but quickly his feelings changed. He was quickly overwhelmed with his own tsunami of fright, as he became aware of the fact it wasn't a wet dream at all, but in reality a wet bed. He seemed almost in shock at the belief that he could have peed in Lucy's bed. Of all the places, of all the times! He quickly got out of the bed, panicking and not knowing what to do. All he could do was stand in horror at the mess he had made, and wait for Lucy to come from her shower to witness it. If only he could have ran, or cleaned up, or something.

As Mike stood there staring at the stain, he began to become desperate. He didn't know what Lucy would do if she found out about this. He actually couldn't be sure if she already knew. All he knew is he needed a plan. He didn't know what, or how, but something needed to be done and quickly.


End file.
